Betting On Granger
by Falling Softly
Summary: Draco and Blaise have a bet. Draco has one year to meet a witch, settle down (and hopefully get married), and give up the party life. For Good. If he wins, the deed to Zabini Manor become's his. If he loses, then Blaise is named CEO and co-owner of Malfoy Enterprises. Too bad for Draco that the only person who even slightly interests him is the engaged Hermione Granger.
1. New Years, New Plans

**_New Years Day_**

It wasn't until the door had been firmly closed behind him, that Draco Malfoy allowed himself to relax. Although he'd made sure that the girl he woke up next to had still been asleep when he left, too many times he had apparated home only to find that latest conquest had instead been faking, and had latched onto his arm as he vanished.

Waiting a moment longer to make absolutely sure that he wasn't going to have any unexpected guests, he levered himself off the door, and headed for the sitting room, where he was only mildly surprised to find an unexpected guest in the form of Blaise Zabini reclining on his couch.

"What are you doing here?"

Blaise smirked and turned his head to face his best mate. It didn't take a genius to figure out where Draco had been all night - the state of his clothes and hair was a dead giveaway - but he was going to ask anyway.

"Hello and Happy New Years to you as well. I had a fantastic night. Or at least, I was having a fantastic night, until my best mate ditched me. Where did you vanish off to?"

"Found some better company."

Blaise snorted. "Tell me something I hadn't already figured out. The last time I saw you, you were dancing with some girl you picked up. Well, I say dancing. To the casual passerby, it probably looked more like you were having sex standing up in the middle of the dance floor, but what do I know?"

Draco grinned at his friend. "Jealous, are we now? Told you that getting hitched was the worst idea you ever had."

At that, Blaise bristled. "I'll have you know that Astoria and I-"

"Relax. I'm just taking the micky out of you. I was best man at your wedding remember?" He gave Blaise a pointed look before continuing. "And amazing as I my be at most things, I'm not that good at pretending something's a good idea when it's not."

Blaise let it go, in favour of bringing up the topic that had bought him to the Manor so early in the first place. Draco had drifted off towards the glass-fronted cabinet in the corner, no doubt in search of more alcohol. Experience had taught Blaise that the only cure for a hangover that the Malfoy heir trusted was more liquor, and not even a full night drinking would be enough to slow him day the next morning.

"So what was the name of your first shag of the year?"

Draco paused in his search for a moment, a small frown gracing his features as he tried to remember.

"I'm not sure. Laura, Lorna, something like that." He turned back to the liquor cabinet and continued rummaging.

Blaise raised an eyebrow sceptically. "Really? Because when you introduced me to 'dance floor girl', you said her name was Katie."

Draco shrugged, completely unconcerned. "Oh well. It's not like I'm ever going to see her again." He finally emerged, holding a bottle of firewhiskey and two shot glasses. "You up for a shot?"

The only response to his statement was a groan filled with frustration. Draco frowned a bit more at that. He was, to say the least, more than a bit confused. While Blaise wasn't as enthusiastic a drinker, he was normally up for a post-hangover shot.

"What's the issue? You've never had a problem with my inability to remember names before now. Or my need to consume liquor. Why is it suddenly a big deal?"

"It's a 'big deal', as you so eloquently put it, because your turning 27 at your next birthday."

Draco waited a moment to see if he was planning on extending his very vague and unhelpful answer, and when he didn't, decided to go ahead and pour himslelf a drink, and ask a question of his own.

"What's your point?" He asked, holding out the second glass.

"My point is that you seriously need to get a girlfriend. All this... womanising, and sleeping around. It has to stop," Blaise said, ignoring the drink, and throwing his head back while simultaneously covering his eyes with his palms. Draco looked simply bemused and slightly offended. Didn't Blaise realise that this was expensive stuff? Oh well. _Waste not, want not; _he thought to himself as he downed his second drink of the morning.

Grimacing slightly from the burn, he went out on a limb, and opened up the Forbidden Subject, as it had been dubbed years previously.

"This coming from the man who succeded in his mission to sleep with every seventh and eighth year girl in Slytherin by graduation during our final year?"

Blaise growled at the mention of that. Ever since he had gotten married to Astoria Greengrass, he had striven to avoid any and all mention of his past escapades, and did not appreciate the sexual misdemeanours of his final year at Hogwarts being dragged into the argument they were having. Especially as one of the women he had claimed over the course of the year had been his sister-in-law. He still wasn't sure if it was a blessing or curse that Astoria herself had been a present and involved party at the time.

"That was a completely different scenario. I was a hormone-driven 17 year old. Hell, if it wasn't for the fact that Daphne refused to sleep with you, you would have done exactly the same thing." He knew thet Draco had only said it to wind him up, but all of a sudden, he found himself wanting that drink.

"Even thought the situation might be different, the fact is that until tonight, you had no issue with my sex life or who it was conducted with, and now you do." Draco was starting to get slightly annoyed by this point, and it came through in his tone. He knew that Blaise would be looking for his glass, and felt no remorse in having already drunk it. _Should've had it when I offered it._

Blaise was bitterly regretting not having alcohol in his system for this conversation, although he wished that his best mate had had a bit less as he knocked back his third shot of the morning.

"Believe me, I still don't care about your sex life, but as your PR manager, I'm getting sick of covering up your escapades." There was no way that the former Slytherin was telling his best mate he was simply worried about him.

Draco looked surprised. Whatever he had expected the reason to be, it certainly hadn't been that. _Thank fuck he doesn't know the real story. _

"When have you ever had to 'cover up my escapades?'"

Blaise jerked up and looked him dead in the eye. "You have got to be kidding me." When Draco continued to look befuddled, Blaise's temper started to rise.

Sensing this, and wanting to make amends, Draco sincerely asked. "What Blaise? What has been so bad that it warranted 'covering up'?"

"The Japanese prostitutes for one-"

"I told you, they weren't prostitutes."

"-the burlesque show in New York for another-"

"Burlesque is an art form."

"-that night in Berlin-"

"Some guy stole my pants, how is that my fault!?"

"-getting high IN PUBLIC during your trip to the Netherlands last year-"

"I was Amsterdam, what did you expect me to do!"

"-having sex in a Michelin starred restaurant-"

"Lots of people do that."

"-NOT UNDER THE TABLE THEY DON'T-"

"Nobody saw us."

Blaise groaned. "I can assure you, a lot of people saw that. I had to pay over 5 million muggle pounds to stop the footage getting out. And that's just the tip of the iceberg, Draco. I've spent most of the last five years of life protecting your reputation. Just about everything you do gets back to me sooner or later. You have no idea how many people I've paid to keep quiet about what you get up to. Or how many lawyers I've had to hire to stop some articles coming out. How many women have come to me claiming that you've fathered their children. You have no idea how many paternity tests I've had to organise and simultaneously keep away from the media. Or how many dealers have come into the building trying to sell you the latest hit. The number of people who've sent me pictures of you in the gutter, drunk or high, and demanding payment to keep quiet. Your reputation is only as clean as it is because I've managed to keep it that way." He took a deep breath. He hadn't meant to say all of that, but now that it was out he was going to use it to his advantage. "I know you don't mean to mate, but pretty soon you're going be 30, and then everything becomes that much harder. The photos and stories that go to print will start to look a lot worse, and it'll be harder to cover up some of the bigger stuff. It's almost impossible to play off the public stunts as wild youth now, let alone when your pushing 40. If you keep going at this rate, you'll burn yourself and your reputation to pieces."

Draco looked shell-shocked. He hadn't exactly signed up for that first thing in the morning. Stepping towards the window, he thought over what Blaise had just said. He knew that he didn't have the cleanest reputation in Britian, but he'd had no idea just how much work went into keeping him looking as respectable as he currently was. He could also tell from Blaise's slightly shocked ace that he hadn't planned on that coming out either.

"Look, mate…" Draco began, but after only those tow words, he realised that there wasn't really anything to say. Blaise apparently agreed, as he stood up and moved towards the door.

"Listen, I'm not saying that you need to find someone to marry right now. But maybe, if you find a nice witch, just consider dating her. Preferably for more then a couple of days. Sorry if I completely ruined your New Years by dumping all of this on you at once." And with that, he opened the door and left that manor.

_Right. New Years resolution: Find A Girlfriend._

* * *

**This is my first story, so feedback is seriously appreciated. I haven't got a beta yet, so if there are any issues, don't hesitate to let me know. I'd love to hear any constructive criticism you have, but please: No Haters.**

**I haven't finished writing the story yet, so updates might be far between, but the more love, the faster I'll write.**

**Hope you all enjoy.**

**FS xx**


	2. Failed Resolutions

**_This chapter has a lot of perspective and time changes. If this is confusing to read, then please let me know, so I can avoid doing it in later chapters. I read each chapter at least a dozen times before I post them, so I understand everything, which means I don't always notice when things don't make sense._**

**_There also won't always be dates, but I thought it might help in these early stages while I'm trying to set up the story._**

* * *

Three Weeks Later

**_(Jan. 23)_**

For the fifth time in three weeks, Draco closed the door of Malfoy Manor grateful that he was alone. Dating, it turned out, was much harder than just taking a pretty witch out to dinner.

Following Blaise's tumultuous visit on New Years Day, Draco had spent the remainder of the morning and the better part of the afternoon thinking about his life. It was true that he tended to act first and let others do the thinking later. Following the war the pressures that Draco found himself facing were so daunting and of such a magnitude - heading up an international company, rebuilding the Malfoy name, supporting his mother, and dealing with a never-ending stream of court appearances - that he frequently found himself…_indulging_, as he thought of it. The time he spent away from all the pressures that came with being Draco Malfoy was a godsend, and in almost ten years of owning and running the largest wizarding company in Britain (and third largest in muggle Europe), it had never crossed his mind what his activities may look like to other people.

It was at that point he also realised just how much work Blaise must have put in over the years to keep him looking credible, because without even thinking about it, he could name a dozen instances where he'd been in a less-then-respectable state, _knowing _that wizarding and muggle paparazzi were looking at him, playing up his state of intoxication, and never seeing a story. Some of the stuff that he'd done over the years would have been worth an absolute fortune. A fortune, he had come to acknowledge, that Blaise must have spent to stop it getting out.

So, for the first time in his life, Draco was taking someone else's feeling into account, and trying to do the better thing. And so began The Dating Plan. During the week, he scoured each and every wizard newspaper and tabloid in publication looking for someone who he could see himself marrying. Although that itself was a hard enough task, because up until a few weeks ago, he had never even considered marriage. And when the only witches even worth considering were purebloods - a filter that eliminated almost 80% of the pool right from the start - who were all starting to settle down and get married themselves, there was only a handful left who met his criteria.

_It would have been okay, _he thought, _if they weren't all the most vapid and boring chits I ever had to deal with_. Five dates with five of the dumbest witches that the world had ever produced, and Draco was seriously considering celibacy just to get out of ever needing to go on another date. But no, his resolution had been to find a girlfriend, and short of an apocalypse killing off every female in the world, he was going to get one.

So now, his only options were a couple of blond airheads, one reporter for the _Daily Prophet_, a few Hufflepuffs, Pansy, and Daphne Greengrass.

Mulling over his options, Draco had a feeling that he would never find anyone. He couldn't stomach the thought of another evening entertaining a blond; he made a point of avoiding the _Prophet _at all costs; Hufflepuffs were out of the question; and he'd rather stick needles in his eye then go back to Pansy. That just left Daphne, who he had known since he was born, and only felt a sisterly affection for.

Groaning, he picked himself up off the floor where he had sunk shortly after arriving home, and made his way to bed, mentally reminding himself to ask Blaise to set up a date.

* * *

Blaise was surprised, although not entirely shocked, to find Draco knocking on his door three nights later. What did shock him was Daphne, who had followed him in. Blaise may not have had much experience with regular dating, but he was pretty sure that at the end of one the parties involved didn't turn up unannounced on their best friend and sisters doorstep. He opened his mouth to say something, but Draco held up a hand, clearly not wanting to talk about it just yet. Daphne, sensing this, made short work of getting out of earshot. Greeting Blaise, she asked after her sister, and gave Draco a warm hug before darting off to talk with Astoria.

"So, can I infer that the date when well?" Blaise asked with a cheeky glint in his eye.

Draco growled and stalked of towards the sitting-room, and poured himself a tall glass of firewhisky. Once he was properly lubricated, he began to speak.

"It was an absolute nightmare," he began.

"It can't have been that bad," Blaise tried to argue. "You two have known each other your whole life, how bad could it've been?"

Draco gave him a rueful smile. "That was the problem. Daphne's like my sister, the date was the most awkward situation I've ever put myself in. Ten minutes in we decided to call it quits on the date and just have dinner."

Blaise couldn't really argue with that. "Who's next on the list, then?"

"I have absolutely no idea." Draco quickly bought him up to speed on who was left, and moaned for a minute about how 'all the good ones were gone.' Blaise tried to take hime seriously, but that was easier said then done.

"You were at all of their weddings, I don't know why you're suddenly surprised that Daphne and Pansy are your only reasonable options," was his very helpful insight.

Draco glared at him again. "Pansy isn't even an option. I will never subject myself to her incessent whining ever again." Standing up, he shook Blaise's hand, just as the door opened allowing the Greengrass sisters to enter. Astoria, blond, thin and gorgeous, seemed surprised that he was leaving soon.

"Leaving already?" she asked, as she made her way over to him an kissed his cheek. He gave her a tired smile.

"Yeah," he said. "I'm looking forward to crawling into bed and putting tonight behind me."

Daphne pretended to be offended, but her mock scowl was quickly replaced by a smile as Draco hugged her. Pulling back, she placed her hands on his cheeks. Looking him dead in the eye, she simply said, "Never. Again."

He chuckled. "If I ever ask you out on a date again, then turn me into the Ministry, because I'm either under the Imperious or possessed."

Bidding Blaise and Astoria farewell, he walked over to the fireplace and called out "Malfoy Manor" as he stepped into the swirling green flames.

* * *

"Mate, I know that I'm irresistible, but can you please indulge in cravings later in the morning?"

Draco ignored him and pushed into the house. Blaise grumbled and followed him into the sitting room. In a scene eerily reminiscent of the night before, Draco helped himself to Blaise's liquor and flopped down onto the couch. Before he could explain what he was doing, intruding on what had been shaping up to be a very enjoyable morning, Astoria walked in. She was dresses only in her undergarments, which consisted of a bra and lace underpants that left very little to the imagination, and left Draco with no illusions about what he had interrupted. He blushed and averted his eyes as Blaise quickly handed her one of the rugs lying over the nearby chair.

"Draco, much as love having you over, could you please explain why you decided to grace us at such an early hour," Astoria asked as she wrapped the rug around herself, sitting on the chair. Instead of answering, he passed her a slip of parchment. Blaise moved over to where she was sitting, and read the letter over her shoulder.

**_Draco,_**

**_It has come to my attention that you have decided to give up what I believe is known as 'The party life', and begun dating again. This could not have come at a better time, although I must insist that you sever all romantic ties with Daphne Greengrass immediately. Meliae Greengrass informed me of your date with her daughter, and while I have no issues with Daphne herself, a relationship between the two of you is simply impossible. I will explain, but for now, I ask that you devote your attention to what I have to say._**

**_With only ten months until your 27th birthday, and you remaining unwed, it is now time to share some rather unfortunate information with you. A marriage contract made before you were born, between Lucius and Sorrel Parkinson, states that should you and Pansy be remain unwed by the time she turns 27 (six days after you do, as I'm sure you know), then the two of you shall be wed to each other. An Unbreakable Vow prevented Hyacinth and I from telling the two of you until two months ago. It is my belief that your respective fathers were hoping that by not making you, Draco, aware of the contract, that you would remain unattached until it was too late to reasonably find a wife. I, however, have no desire to see you married off to Pansy. I have spent the last two months trying to find a loophole, but to no avail. While Hyacinth does not wish to force you into an unwelcome marriage, she has been convinced by Pansy that the two of you will happy together. Sorrel is desperate to have his line linked to the Malfoy's, and nothing will convince him to break the agreement._**

_**Unfortunately, as a way of further increasing the odds of you and Pansy marrying, a second clause was added once you started you third year of school, and it became clear who you were likely to form bonds with. As such, the clause prevents you from becoming involved with either Daphne or Astoria, and Pansy from pursuing either Blaise or Theodore Nott. It was added to prevent either of you entering a marriage of convenience once the arrangement became known to you. Due to long standing grudge Lucius had with Alexiares Greengrass, when it came time to select those forbidden to you, he, unfortunately, chose two girls who would eventually become some of your closest friends, and more likely then others to offer themselves in marriage should you wish to avoid your fathers agreement.**_

**_There are, luckily, no other restrictions on your prospect bride. Half-blood, muggle-born, muggle; 15 or 50, you are free to wed anyone other then Daphne. I would never say this to anyone else, but the more 'inappropriate', the better. It would be a fitting punishment for your father for putting you - and me - in this position in the first place._**

**_I am sorry to have to tell you this news in such circumstances, but unless your feelings towards Pansy have changed over the last decade, you would do well to get married sooner rather than later._**

**_Mother_**

Blaise finished reading, and looked over towards where Draco was slumped on the couch.

"So….any chance that there's someone who you're madly in love with and is willing to marry you in a second?" Blaise asked, half joking, half hoping.

Draco groaned and covered his face with his arms as he leant back on the chair. "No, there is absolutely nobody who I could even think about marrying, and if I don't get hitched before my next birthday, then Father's stupidity will mean that I have to marry Pansy." He shuddered at the very thought.

Astoria looked up at that. She was slightly offended that Lucius had forbidden her and her sister from becoming attached to Draco, but he and her father had never gotten along, although Alexiares had always had a soft spot for Draco, who had acted as a brother and looked out for 'his girls' while they were away at school.

"Oh my god!" She exclaimed, startling both boys, who hadn't been expecting that reaction. "There is someone! Come on, you can trust us who is it?" Draco chose not to answer, instead returning to his previous position in a gesture that practically screamed 'leave me alone'. That didn't stop Astoria, who had moved next to him on the couch and was gently shaking his arm as she pleaded for him to "spill the beans already."

Blaise looked at the two of them thoughtfully. While Astoria was given to flights of absurdity, especially where her friends love-lives were concerned, she was actually very perceptive, which meant that there was a very good chance that Draco did have someone in mind. Mulling over this, he re-read the letter, looking for anything that might give even the slightest clue as to Draco's secret affections. On the third look-over, he found it.

**Muggle-born.**

_Granger._

It took a few moments for the notion to sink in, but once it did, Blaise knew he'd figured it out, and he immediately started laughing. This drew the attention of the people sitting opposite him, who looked at him as though he'd grown an extra head. Draco spoke first.

"And just what, Zabini, do you find so hilarious about my current predicament?" His voice sounded almost exactly the same as it had during their Hogwarts years, when he truly had been the Slytherin Prince.

Blaise widened his eyes in mock horror. "Ooh, and we're back to last names. Looks like the big, bad head of the snakes is back." He almost doubled over laughing before he was able to catch his breath enough to continue. "Dude, that act didn't work then, and it isn't going to work now." As he continued to laugh, Draco glowered, and Astoria suddenly changed focus from her friend to her husband.

"Blaise, what are you on about, who are talking about, who's Draco in love with?" Astoria rattled this off in one breath, with the words running into each other. Draco, on the other hand, said nothing. Blaise was a lot of things, but stupid wasn't one of them. He probably did know, but there was absolutely no way that he was going to admit it.

"Sweet Salazar, that's why you never bothered to settle down. That's why you never tried to make a relationship work. You're in denial. Well, hate to be the bearer of bad news, but it's been ten years mate. And she's engaged. It's probably time to move on." Blaise looked very proud of himself for figuring all of that out, and his hearty chuckles showed no signs of abating any time soon.

Draco could see the moment when the light went off in Astoria's head. She looked over at Blaise. "Oh, you don't mean…" She trailed off at the end as he nodded, and quickly joined her husband in laughter. Seeing Draco's face a few moments later, she tried to get her self under control. "Aw, sweetie. It's okay, it's not like we didn't know about it. Hermione's very pretty, talented, successful, and she's probably the only person who can argue with you on equal footing. Everyone knew you had a crush on her during eighth year. We just didn't realise you hadn't gotten over it." At the end of what had been shaping up to be such a support-filled and encouraging speech, she once again dissolved into giggles.

Draco got up and made his way over the floo, snatching the letter as he went. It was pretty clear that he wasn't going to get any help from those two, and he'd prefer to suffer alone if he was just going to be laughed at. He had just grabbed a handful of the sparkling green powder when he felt Astoria's small hand on his arm. Unresisting, he allowed himself to be turned around, until he was facing the two of them. When she spoke, there was no trace of humour, only sympathy.

"Hey, we're sorry. But Granger hasn't spoken to you in, what, four…five years? And she's engaged. Actually, am I right in guessing that you made more of a point of avoiding her after she announced that she was getting engaged that Christmas?" His silence was all the answer she needed. When it became clear he wasn't going to answer, she continued. "It's just a little surprising that you still have such strong feelings for someone you barely have any contact with."

Coming to stand beside his wife, Blaise put an arm around her waist and followed on from her train of though. "And it's not like you had a great relationship to begin with. What with everything, it just seems like the right time to move on. You need to find a witch and get married in less then a year, and Hermione is getting married in a matter of months as well."

That seemed to shock Draco out of his stupor. Surprising both of them, he started laughing. "Oh Merlin, I really got you didn't I? As if I'm in love with Granger." He continued to laugh as he started turning back towards the fireplace. It took Blaise a second to react, and by that time, Draco had already left, although an echo of his laughter was still floating around the room.

Astoria turned to Blaise. "Oh hell, now what are we going to do? He's clearly in denial, and he's not going to find anyone until he realises his feelings for her and gets past them."

Blaise looked down at his wife. "Hope that his stubbornness doesn't mean that he gets stuck with Parkinson for the rest of his life?"

Astoria threw her hands up, and walked off huffing "Men!"

* * *

**I hope that you all like this chapter, because I re-wrote it about ten times and I'm still not 100% happy with the ending.**

**Sorry this was a bit heavy and giving the sense of doom-and-gloom. I'm really trying to avoid that. I did mark this as 'Humour', after all. I know that the marriage contract is a bit left-wing from the description, but I was planning the rest of the story, and I really needed something that big for later on. It's a plot device, not the plot itself.**

**Next chapter is better, I promise. First Hermione! Yay! **

**Hyacinth and Sorrel are both flowers, keeping in with Pansy**

**Meliae and Alexiares are both Ancient Greek deities to keep with Daphne (I couldn't find anything to tie in with Astoria meaning wise)**

**FS xx**


	3. Weasels

**_I am so sorry that this one took so long to write. There's only so long you can put off homework before you run the risk of not getting it done, and Hermione's backstory needed to be told, but I didn't realise how long it was going to be._**

**_WARNING: RUDE LANGUAGE AHEAD_**

* * *

**_Feb 2_**

Hermione was furious. No, she was _way _beyond furious. If Voldemort had been standing in her kitchen at that precise moment he would have been running in the opposite direction. Ronald Weasley had better be well prepared for what was coming to him when he eventually came crawling back home.

She couldn't believe that only a few hours ago, she had been sitting in bed, feeling more at peace with the world then she had in a long time. Sure, things might not have been perfect, but she finally felt as if her life was under control. Her job was great, she had fantastic friends and an amazing family, and finally - after putting it off for almost five years - she had set a date for her wedding to Ron. Over the years, she made a point of not dwelling on _why_ she had kept putting it off, preferring to believe the lie she told the rest of the world about being too busy. But last month, on New Years Eve, he had taken her out into muggle London, a place she _knew _he still wasn't comfortable in, had treated her to a magnificent dinner, taken her dancing, and ended the night on top of the London Eye to watch the fireworks. There, he had made an impassioned speech about how much he loved her, and wanted to marry her. He promised that he would do whatever she wanted, and she could lead whatever life she wished, but could she first make all of his dreams come true by marrying him and making him the happiest man in the world.

_What a flaming load of Centaur dung, _she savagely thought, seriously fighting the impulse to pull out her wand and destroy Ron's 'bloody priceless' collection of Chudley Cannon memrobilia.

She remembered how happy she had been at his promise that she could make a career for herself. Her main worry when it came to her engagement was that once she was married and became Ms Ron Weasley, she would end up leading much the same life as her mother-in-law. Hermione loved Molly as though she was her mum, but didn't want to be a housewife who's world revolved around raising her children.

In the years following the war, she had become a successful business lawyer with the Ministry, and just last week had been appointed Head of the Office of Corporate Affairs, dealing with all of the major companies that operated in wizarding England. This unfortunately included Malfoy Enterprises, and her first few years had been spent acting as the main liaison between her office in Magical Law Enforcement, and the head office of Malfoy Enterprises. Her boss had been under the mistaken impression that as 'old school chums' (his words), she and Draco would get along. They hadn't, and for the last few years she had found herself dealing more and more with Blaise Zabini, who kept an office at the ministry (on the newly developed Level 1.5: Department of Corporate Offices for Ministry Relations) where he worked as Malfoy's PR manager and Liaison to the Ministry. If she was being totally honest with herself, she missed Draco. He may have still been an obnoxious ferret, but at least their sparring made for stimulating conversation. _Which is more then I can reasonably say about you, Weasley. _

Choosing to focus her attention back onto the problem at hand, she forced memories of the snarky, blond Slytherin to the back of her mind, although the echo of her thoughts about him helped her to build her anger to even more impressive heights.

All in all, however, she loved her job. She loved it even more because she knew that she had never been treated any differently to her colleagues. Even though Kingsley had been trying to make her head of Magical Law Enforcement since she joined it, she had resisted, working hard in Corporate Affairs to reach the point she was at now. Her success had come from hard work and determination, not from cashing in on her newly-aquired status. The war had made it's heroes famous, but for Hermione, it was hard enough trying to move on with her day to day life, without being handed the world on the platter because she happened to be friends with Harry Potter.

This attitude was in stark contrast to Ron. In the beginning she had allowed him to revel in the sunlight that came with fame and fortune, because she understood what it was like for him. He had spent his whole life being eclipsed by other people; his brothers, his sister, Harry, and so many of the various people who he came into contact with throughout his school life. All of whom were doing a little bit better then he was, a bit more successful then he was, getting a bit more for a bit less. His part in the war, destroying the horcruxes, opening the chamber of secrets, and finally getting the girl of his dreams, had thrust him into the spotlight, and he was reaping the rewards that came with it. Coming from a family that had neither wealth nor status, Ron now found himself flush with both, and he was determined to enjoy it for as long as he could. Hermione had patiently put up with his fame-mongering for the first two or three years, but as time went on, and Ron's appetite for the camera never seemed to diminish, she began to seriously wonder if he was ever going to be ready to settle down.

Even their engagement had been a media event. He had popped the question in the middle of the Ministry's annual Christmas ball, and honestly, she hadn't wanted to say yes. She liked her quiet life, but she had been beginning to see that her relationship with Ron was more about convenience then love. He had been her best friend since she was eleven, and she'd held a torch for him throughout her sixth and seventh years. They got along well, but didn't have all that much in common these days, and were more friends than lovers.

_Damn you to the depths of whatever hell you crawled out from, Ronald. _Her anger, which had again grown, was now also focused on the impossible position he had put her in after the announcement. By the time she was afforded an opportunity to have a real talk about their future together, he had already told every newspaper and tabloid in Europe about their impending nuptials, and nothing she said about not being ready could get through him. So in the end, she had given in. Ron wasn't the worst company in the world, and at least this way she would have someone to come home to each day. But no matter what, she still avoided the public eye as much as possible.

So when he had invited her to the Auror Ball (traditionally the week after Christmas, although this year Harry had been sick, so the entire event had been postponed until the first of February) last week, she had declined. It was always crawling with media representatives, because around half of the 'war-heroes' from Hogwarts had gone onto work there, and with the news of the wedding date already circulating, it was a headache she felt she could do without. Ron had smiled, and promised that he would behave himself and not give too much personal information away to the media.

It turned out that he was able to keep half of his promise. He hadn't given out any of _her_ personal information, but his private life had just been blown out of the water.

When she woke up that morning, she was only half surprised to find the other side of the bed empty. Despite his promise to come home 'early', Ron often had a drink or three more then he should, and when that happened and Hermione wasn't around to pick him up, Harry took charge. Which meant that he should have been sleeping on the couch at the Potters, but when she flooed to see what her errant fiancé had gotten up to the night before, not only was Ron not on the couch, but Harry and Ginny also seemed to be out. Pulling her head out of the fire, she sat back on her heals and thought over her options. Deciding that there wasn't anything she could do until either of her best friends turned up out of the void, she wandered into the kitchen to make a cup of tea and peruse the _Daily Phrophet_. The centre spread usually had a collection of semi-official photographs from the ball, and she wanted to see how Ginny looked in her dress.

Luckily or unluckily, she didn't have to search further then the front page before she got see pictures of the night, and also figure out where her now ex-fiancé was. Taking up half of the front page was a picture of Ron out on the dance floor, snogging the life out of Lavender Brown. Scattered around the main image where a series of smaller photos that all showed Ron and Lavender-the-Slut in various compromising positions, with a headline at the top reading _'WHERE'S HERMIONE?'_

Hermione's world stopped spinning for a moment. For a single instant, her entire life crumbled with the knowledge that she had been cheated on, betrayed by someone who only weeks ago had said she was the single most important thing in his life. But that moment quickly passed, and was replaced with a towering inferno of pure hatred that would've killed an elephant, and still had enough left over to floor a hippo or two. Tearing the paper open, she searched for the accompanying story. She eventually found it on page nine. Brushing away tears that were a mixture of fury and betrayal out of her eyes, she began to read.

**_AREN'T YOU ENGAGED?_**

**_When celebrity couple and war heroes Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger set a date for their long-awaited wedding last month, the wizarding world rejoiced. After waiting five years, it finally seemed as though the world's most anticipated set of nuptials was going to happen. However, last nights Auror Ball may have changed all that. _**

**_Hermione Granger has always forgone media exposure, and it appears that yet again, the Auror Ball was too much pressure for her to accept. While media moguls have accused her of being deliberately difficult, close friends have maintained that she is mearly very private, and does not deal well with extended media coverage. This sentiment was supported by her fiancé last night, when asked why she appeared to be boycotting an event in which many of her close friends would be in attendance. _**

**_In past years, when Granger has chosen to opt out, Ron Weasley had attended stag. But last night, brows were raised when he appeared accompanied by school-mate and ex-girlfriend, Lavender Brown. When asked about his date for the prestigious and very public event, he candidly replied that "Hermione didn't want to come, and Lav did. How many of these things do you expect me to turn up alone to anyway?" Despite going on to say that he and Brown had always been, and remain, 'just friends' (a fact that this reporter knows to be false), it seemed as though friendship was the last thing on his mind as he proceeded to snog the night away, in front of some of the most prominent members of the Ministry._**

**_A 'blow-by-blow' summary of how their night together progressed would render this article unfit for publication, but reports given to various media representatives by others do not paint a very clean picture. Sources claimed to have found them in various compromising positions at least a dozen times, with one lady who shall remain anonymous claiming that she walked into the ladies, only to hear someone screaming "Oh god yes, give it to me Won-won". If even half the stories are true, then the future of 'Romione' looks very dim._**

**_Weasley and Brown left the ball together without comment (not that one was really needed), and questions put to Mr and Mrs Potter as they departed yielded little results. Neville Longbottom, who left with them, gave a statement that he "would support Hermione through anything". Ginny Potter told reporters that "if you value your wands and want to keep them out of your ass, then you'll stay away from Hermione for the next few days, because she has every right to hex you for sticking your nose into her personal life." Harry Potter declined comment, but was heard muttering that 'there was no way he was getting involved in this one.'_**

**_Whatever the truth may be, you can bet your last galleon that this will not be the end of the story. Keep your ears and eyes open._**

**_by Padma Patil_**

By the time she had finished reading the article, Hermione's rage had reached boiling point, and as much as she wanted to visit both Harry and Slutface right now, at the same time, she knew that the best option she had was to stay put and try not to destroy all of Ron's possessions. That was easier said than done, but she'd somehow managed it.

In the middle of what had been shaping up to be a spectacular morning of fuming and planning ways of tastefully tearing Ron's nether regions off and stapling them to her wall, the sound of the floo erupted in the room next to her. Still in the kitchen, Hermione felt all of her anger and betrayal and hurt suddenly quiet, leaving only an icy stillness that was somehow more lethal then the inferno.

She heard Ron come into the room behind her, but she didn't bother to turn around. Ron, clearly feeling pretty smug, took that as a sign of ignorance, and took her in his arms, and kissed the side of her neck. Hermione shrugged out of his embrace, and turned to face him. Giving him the most innocent look she could muster, she asked "So. Did you have a good night?"

Ron smothered a chuckle. _She really does have no idea. _Reigning in his humour, he replied "Oh, you know. It wasn't that great. Especially because you weren't there." He decided to lay it on a bit thick, just in case a photo of him and Lav surfaced.

Hermione only just stopped her eyebrows from becoming a part of her. _Merlin, how stupid does he think I am? _Managing to maintain her calm façade, she began a conversation that she knew would end up with them breaking up. "Oh, it's just," she turned around and grabbed the newspaper, "I was looking through the paper this morning, and Padma had this really great article about the ball. Well, I say the ball," it was at this point she looked up, and got a small kick out of Ron's flinch, "it was really more about you."

Ron paled a bit as she continued. "See, Padma - along with everyone else, it seems - was under the impression that you didn't even notice the fact that I wasn't there, because apparently you decided to replace me. With Lavender." She looked at him expectantly, but there was a hard glint in her eyes.

He tried clearing his throat, but it didn't really work. "Oh, um, yeah. About that…" his voice trailed off as Hermione finally gave up on the pretence of ignorance.

"About what, _Ronald?_"

"Look, um…" If she wasn't so pissed off at him, Hermione would have laughed at the look of discomfort on his face. "It's just…well, you never want to go to these things, and Lav, well, we…er, keep in touch, and she was, umm, saying that…"

"Saying that she's sick of being your dirty little secret and wants you to dump and humiliate me in the most public way possible, because you've been dating her for how long?" Ron seemed to be incapable of doing anything other then acting like a fish, so she continued. "Probably since _we_ started dating back during the war." Finally getting sick of his inability to respond, Hermione let her anger out. "WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY ABOUT THAT RONALD. WHAT FUCKED UP, PRECONCEIVED EXUCSE DID YOU PULL OUT OF YOUR SLIMY ASS TO TRY AND TALK YOUR WAY OUT OF THS!"

Her tone finally seemed to shake Ron enough to get him to respond. Drawing himself up and sticking out his chest, he retaliated, with way too much dignity. "I hardly need an excuse Hermione-"

"Bull-SHIT YOU DON'T NEED EXCUSE!"

"-because this is all your fault."

Hermione shot him a glare that would have re-frozen the Arctic. "What in Merlin's name do you mean _this. Is. All. My. Fault_?"

Ron pointed an accusing finger at her. "If you would just think about how the way you act affects me, then none of this would have happened. The fact that you are so insecure about yourself is the problem here. All I need is for you to come out with me once in a while and talk about how happy you are. But you don't do that, so everyone always feels the need to ask me if you're okay. If you could just answer that for yourself, then everything would've been fine. You never being around makes me look bad, so I figured, if you're never going to take advantage of the opportunities that I provide, I'll find someone who will." He looked very pleased with himself for managing all of that. Before she could respond, he continued. "Look, I want you to come out with me, but if you don't them I'm hardly going to keep turning up at events solo. When we get married, you can stay at home, and I'll find someone else to go out with."

There were so many thing that Hermione wanted to say in retaliation, but the fact that he had even made some of those points as an argument meant that he wouldn't listen to what she had to say about them. She chose to focus on what really was the most outrageous thing in that whole rant.

"What the fuck do you mean _'when we get married'_? If you think that I'm still going to marry you, you're dreaming." She said it without an ounce of feeling. It was simply a matter-of-fact statement. Ron, however, didn't seem to grasp this.

"Of course we're still getting married. I love you, and you love me. Why wouldn't we get married?" The incredulity on his face was enough to set Hermione off again.

"WHY WOUDN'T WE GET MARRIED? WHY **WOULD **WE GET MARRIED YOU PRICK? YOU WERE MAKING OUT WITH WHORE-FACE BROWN ONLY A FEW HOURS AGO! IN FACT, I'D BET THE CONTENTS OF MY GRINGOTTS ACCOUNT THAT THAT'S WHERE YOU CAME FROM, BECAUSE YOU SURE AS HELL WEREN'T AT HARRY'S! AND IF YOU THINK THAT I'M GOING TO BE HAPPY STAYING AT HOME WHILE YOU'RE OFF STICKING YOUR UNDERSIZED DICK INTO ANY SLUT WHO SPREADS HER LEGS FOR YOU, THEN YOUR FUCKING MISTAKEN. IN FACT, I NEVER EVEN WANTED TO MARRY YOU. I ONLY SAID YES BECAUSE YOU BASICALLY FORCED ME TOO, AND I THOUGHT THAT YOU ACTUALLY LOVED ME. AND NOW THAT YOU'VE PROVED YOUR A FUCKING LIAR, I'M OUT!" She took a deep breath, and then continued, only this time at a more reasonable tone. "You can stay here. I'm going back to my flat in London, and sending Padma a letter to say that our engagement is officially over." With that, she walked out of the room, but put up a couple of wards, so that she could get a minute of peace to pack while Ron figured out how to undo the enchantments.

It didn't take her long to pack. Magic was handy in times like this. All it took was a quick swish, and all her belongings from all over the house were packed into two bags (with extension charms on them, of course). Part of her wished that she was still downstairs giving Ron hell about what he'd said, but really, there wasn't anything else to say. Because finally, after five years of keeping it too herself, she had told Ron that if she had had her way, marriage would never have even been on the cards. Everything else was just superfluous.

She was just about to walk downstairs to the floo, and in the midst of congratulating herself on the fact that Ron hadn't been able to undo her wards, when he burst into their bedroom, red in the face. Even all these years later, whenever he was angry or frustrated, his ears and face went bright red. Hermione was only mildly surprised to notice that she didn't even care.

"Look Hermione," he panted. "You're making a rash decision. Why don't you just relax today, get a good a sleep tonight, and then tomorrow, we can talk."

"I can assure you, Ronald, that this decision is not rash. This is something that I've been wanting to do for months. You've never listened to anything that I've said, and I'm sick of it. Our engagement is off." She took of the ring that she had been wearing every day for almost five years, and handed it back to him. Ron totally ignored it, and grabbed her arm.

"Stop calling me Ronald would you. It makes you sound like my mum. And you're not. You're my fiancé. We're getting married, and that the end of it. Actually, before our wedding, you need to sell your apartment. You having just makes it feel like you'e not doing everything to making this work, and I need you to be 100% committed to this relationship."

Hermione lost her temper again. Pulling her wand out, she pointed it straight in Ron's face, forcing him to let go of her arm. "Look, you Weasel, I'm only go say this one more time. There is nothing on this Earth that would make me marry you. Our engagement is over. We will never get back together. I have absolutely no interest in having any sort of relationship with you anymore. If anyone here is uncommitted, it's you. You've been cheating on me for God only knows how long with LAVENDER WHORE-FACE BROWN of all people. You spent the whole night with your tongue lodged down her throat in front of just about al my closest friends, slept at her hovel last night and yet you still came home expecting me to be okay with everything and willing to walk down the aisle. SO LISTEN UP, BECAUSE IF I HAVE TO SAY THIS ONE MORE TIME, I WILL HEX YOU INTO THE NEXT CENTURY; THERE IS NO WAY I WILL EVER MARRY YOU, OR ANY OTHER MAN, WHO IS ANYTHING LESS THEN COMPLETELY IN LOVE WITH ME!" She put her wand away, pushed past Ron, and walked back down the stairs to the Living Room. But fast as she was, she wasn't quite fast enough to miss his last parting shot.

"YOU'LL REGRET THIS HERMIONE! YOU'LL NEVER FIND ANYONE ELSE WHO'S WILLING TO PUT UP WITH ALL OF YOUR BULLSHIT! I WAS THE BEST OPTION YOU HAD, AND YOU'RE WALKING AWAY! YOU'LL BE ALONE FOR THE REST OF YOUR LIFE, YOU UNGRATEFUL BITCH!"

And finally, she did what she knew she should have done years ago, and stepped into the floo, and out of her engagement.

* * *

Harry sat down at his desk, around eight hours earlier then he was hoping to. Ginny was staying at Molly and Arthurs, and he's been crashing on Neville's couch for the night. They both felt that it be unwise to sleep at their own home following Ron's actions at the Ball. Hermione was almost certainly going to drop by at some point looking for Ron, and when she found out what had happened last night, she'd want answers that Ron wouldn't give her. So, what with one thing and another, he and Ginny had split up, and stayed in different places. He'd woken up when his wards alerted him that someone had just entered his house. He knew it had been Hermione, but there was no way he was facing her on only four hours of sleep.

Unfortunately, he hadn't been able to get back to sleep, so the office was the next best place. If he wasn't able to sleep, he might as well get some work down.

He'd been working for around and hour, when a persistent tapping roused him from the pile of papers covering the desk. Looking up, he saw Hermione's owl, Perdita, holding a letter and glaring at him. No doubt, she'd been flying around trying to find him for longer then usual. Sighing, he got up and opened the window. She flew in and landed first in his inkwell, and then on his paperwork, leaving little prints all over it. _Trust Hermione to have an owl as smart and as vengeful as she is_.

Walking over, he took the note out of her mouth. It was short.

**_Ron and I broke up. When I find you, we are going to have a serious talk._**

**_Hermione_**

Collapsing into his chair, Harry ran a hand down his face, wishing that he was still asleep.

* * *

_**I was reading your review's, so I jet thought I'd address some of them, because knowing me, I'll forget about some of the minor things later on. **_

_**The story kind of follows the canon, where Hermione went back to Hogwarts without most of her year. In my story, though, about half of Slytherin went back as well, including Draco, Blaise and Daphne, so she got to know them pretty well. Hermione was already dating Ron though, so sorry, no previous Dramione. Besides, I think that pining Draco is cute.**_

**_In case it didn't come through in this chapter, Hermione was with Ron because he was her friend, they'd been together for years, and she didn't really think she could find anyone better. Thanks for the review though Ramyfan, because without it, I would have even addressed it, and it really needed to be addressed. I agree though, Romione would never have worked._**

**_The engagement was long mostly because I wanted them to be in their late twenties, but didn't want to deal with things like divorce (because I can't write about it and it changes the dynamic), although it does work better with the story to have them in a relationship for more then a decade without getting married. So it's really a win-win._**

**_Keep reading_**

**_FS xx_**


	4. Ministry

**_Feb 4_**

The Atrium was packed from wall to wall when Draco apparated to the Ministry first thing in Monday morning. The crush of bodies was enough to drive every last drop of oxygen out of his body, and he felt his heart-rate pick up just a touch. Ever since his mothers letter, it felt like the need to find a wife was squashing him, so to actually be squished between a group of people made him feel very claustrophobic. Forcing his way through the crowd towards the fountain where the Ministry security guards had formed a sort of barrier, he took a moment to just take in how many people were actually crammed into the hall. _Holy shit, there must be two hundred people in here. _And it didn't take a genius to realise that not all of them were Ministry employes. But for the life of him, Draco could not figure out who they all where or what they were all doing.

There hadn't been this many people packed into the Ministry since Potter and She-Weasley had announced that they were getting married, so he could only assume that Weasel and Granger had made some kind of announcement at the Auror Ball (or, as he liked to call it, The Celebration of Scar-head Ball, which was only fair given the fact that the whole night had been postponed to better suit him). But he knew better than to ask anyone what was going on, because that would imply that he cared, and if it had anything to do with the 'Golden Trio', then he couldn't give a griffin's arse.

Still busy trying to figure out what was going on, Draco missed Blaise's highly undignified entrance into the mayhem. His arrival caused many of the nearby people to eagerly turn in his direction, but they quickly redirected their attention back towards a group of fireplaces that he was pretty sure where connected to the houses in Muggle London. _What the fuck is happening today. _Blaise shocked him out of his thoughts by punching him in the arm. Scowl already affixed, he whirled around, only to see his best mate with a shit-eating grin plastered all over his face.

"Jesus, Zabini!" Draco swore. "What the fuck is your problem." Considering that he was having the worst week of his post-war life, he really didn't appreciate Blaise turning up looking like he'd just been named Minister for Magic.

He watched as the smile slowly slid off Blaise's face, replaced with confusion. It shouldn't have surprised Blaise that Draco had no idea what had happened over the weekend. Draco had made a point of boycotting the_ Daily Prophet _ever since his father's incarceration. Apparently life in Azkaban wasn't considered a big enough punishment for the elder Malfoy, and - fuelled by public outrage over the leniency shown to ex-Death Eaters - the _Prophet _had run daily articles for the duration of the trial in an attempt to discredit both wife and son as well. It was only thanks to the testimonies of Potter and Granger that Narcissa had been declared innocent of all charges, and Draco spared Azkaban. Which, Blaise now realised, probably didn't help the whole 'pining from afar' issue. Hermione had acted in his defence when she had had absolutely no reason or cause to.

To no one's surprise, the Weasel had declined to provide a testimony of his own, and on more then one occasion had been quoted saying that he hoped the entire family 'got what they deserved'.

"Oh… well, you know…" He trailed off helplessly, not really wanting to be the one who told Draco the whole story about Granger and Weasley, but luckily, Draco took it upon himself to fill in the blanks. Incorrectly, but at least it saved him from having to continue.

Shuddering, he stated, "O…kay then. I don't really need to know about the sordid details of what you and Astoria got up to this early in the morning." Blaise shot him a grin, but inside he was sighing with relief about not needing to explain anything. "But as long as you're just standing there looking smug, would you tell me what the hell all these people are doing here today."

_Shit, _Blaise thought desperately. In a panic, he glanced around quickly for something to distract Draco, when suddenly the source of all the commotion came tumbling out of the fireplace. Everyone who had just been milling about in the Atrium suddenly seemed to produce some combination of a camera, ink, parchment, or quick-quotes quill as they ran towards a very surprised Hermione Granger. _Should have known that there was only one person capable of dragging every member of the press into the Ministry_.

Even though Hermione had looked so surprised at her welcoming committee that a house-elf riding a centaur couldn't have done more to shock her, within the space of only a few moments her expression had gone through resignation, straight to acceptance. He had no idea what had happened over the weekend, but whatever it was, clearly she wasn't surprised at the reaction. Draco could see her mouth moving furiously, and gathered that she was trying to get them to move out of her way. The shouts of the reporters all ran over each other, making it nearly impossible for anyone to discern what was being said, but if the way Hermione's mouth was moving was any indication, the questions where very unwelcome. Even from the other side of the Atrium, it was pretty obvious that she was trying to fend off the vultures, but apparently words on their own where not alone. Furiously pulling out her wand, all of Hermione's pent-up rage became evident, as she quickly began firing off hexes into the crowd of reporters.

Draco turned away from the spectacle. Hermione Granger in a rage had always been a glorious sight, and he didn't trust himself to keep a straight face with Blaise right next to him. Instead, he started walking towards the elevators across from the fountain. The thumping behind him indicated the Blaise had noticed his departure, and was hurrying after him.

"Soooo… sight of your I-wish girlfriend all fired up too much for you, eh?"

Draco stopped yet again and whirled around to face his mate. "How many times do I need to tell you, I DO NOT HAVE FEELINGS FOR GRANGER! All I want is for everyone to get over all of their 'precious' war heroes. It's bloody sickening how much everyone seems to fawn over them. The war was almost a decade ago. It's about time that everyone realised that there are more important things then a bunch of arrogant Gyffindor's that think everyone should care about everything they do just because they shot a few spells at a few Death Eaters." He finished his rant and puffed a bit, trying to catch his breath. He had been almost shouting again by the end of his little speech. Luckily, the din inside the Ministry had drowned out most of what he'd said.

Blaise smirked. _People who are not Malfoy's should not smirk, _Draco thought savagely. "Finished over-stating your hatred of everything Gryffindor?" Blaise asked. Draco growled. _God, nothing is worth standing here dealing with this. _

"IF, you'll excuse me," he stated haughtily, "I, unlike you, actually had things I had to do today. Things that do not include standing around discussing a bunch of attention-seeking war heroes." For the third time that morning, Draco attempted to make his way to the elevators, only to be stopped by Blaise, who called after him.

"You know, a lot of people would say that your hatred is just misplaced affection." Draco shot him a glare so full of venom that Blaise was surprised he didn't go flying backwards. The, by now very angry, blond opened his mouth to retort, but before a single word came out, someone bumped into him, causing him to stumble. The person who had run into him had fallen over, and the books that had been crammed into their bag were now lying on the floor. Everyone in the Atrium was looking at them, but Draco didn't even notice. He was too distracted by the girl struggling onto her knees in front of him. He felt a little guilty for causing her to fall, so he extended a hand to help her up, only to snatch it back when a pair of angry brown eyes looked up at him.

"What the fuck Malfoy?" Yelled none other then Hermione Granger. "Can't you pull your head out of your ass long enough to get out of the fucking way?"

Any lingering feeling of guilt that Draco had were put on hold. "Get over yourself, Granger. YOU walked into ME, remember? It's hardly my fault that your hair's so big you can't see where you're going." Taunting Granger about her hair had always been his favourite pastime at school, and if the way she flush was any indication, it was still a sore point.

"If you weren't so much of an arrogant prat that you decided to stand stock still in the middle of the hall and just _assume _that everyone else would walk around you - "

"Tut tut, Granger," Draco interrupted. "Is that any way to speak to your betters?" Almost immediately there was an outbreak of outraged muttering. _Jesus Christ, what is their problem? _It was nothing that he hadn't said to her before, in front of other people, but today, everyone seemed to be giving him the stink-eye because of it. "And in any case," he continued smoothly. "_I _was in the middle of a conversation. _You _were the one who got in the way." He gave her a final, dismissive, look, and then turned to go back to Blaise.

"OI!" Hermione yelled. "Aren't you even going to help me up?" She had finished grabbing her books, and was trying to balance them in her arms while climbing to her feet.

Without even bothering to turn and look at her, Draco replied. "No, I don't think so. I just washed my hands, and I don't really feel like dirtying them again."

Hermione quickly forced back her tears as she addressed him again. "I don't know why I'm so surprised. I can't believe I ever expected a _FERRET _to take responsibility for his own actions." Before she could blink, Draco was standing about a foot away and glaring at her. _Good to know that the ferret thing still works on him. _

"Well at least I'm not a buck-tooth beaver with more brainpower than beauty who thinks that nobody cares whats on the outside. So why don't you run back your Weasel fiancé, because he clearly doesn't care that you look like the rear end of a flobberworm." The next thing he knew, his right cheek felt like it was on fire, and Hermione was breathing hard, hand still raised from her hit, eyes bright with unshed tears. They both stood glaring at each other for a moment, until Hermione turned and hurried over to the elevators.

Giving her a final glare, Draco walked back to Blaise, ignoring everyone and cupping his recently slapped face. It had been about fifteen years, but Hermione's ability to smack the shit out of him hadn't suffered one bit. As he arrived back at the fountain, he saw the elevator that Hermione had climbed into slowly sinking, and the girl inside wiping her tears away.

With Hermione now gone and the excitement over, the Atrium emptied - faster than Draco would have thought possible. Within only a minute, every reporter had disapperated, leaving only him, Blaise, and a few people talking in hushed whispers about what they had seen.

The guilt he had pushed to the side earlier resurfaced, and he did feel bad about some of what he'd said. _Oh, come on. Just about everything you said to her was a lie. _He couldn't deny that his comments about her appearance were mostly unfounded, and his remarks about superiority were uncalled for. Shamefaced, he turned to Blaise, only to find his best mate scowling at him as well.

"I know. It was uncalled for, and I need to apologise," he said before Blaise opened his mouth.

Blaise wasn't impressed, but his assessment wasn't exactly what Draco had been expecting. "I can't believe you're still banging on about blood superiority. I mean, it was one thing when we were kids, but to still be saying she's a mudblood _now _is just-"

"Wait!" Draco said hurriedly. "When on earth did I say she was a… a… that thing?"

"You have GOT to be kidding me. The comment about dirtying yourself by helping her. I don't even know how to tell you how much of a shit you are for not evening remembering your racism-"

Draco interrupted him again. By now he was properly frantic. "NO!" he yelled. "That's not what I meant by that! I just said it because she'd fallen over, and her hands were actually filthy. From the floor. Because god only knows that they never bother to clean them, and… I mean… just look at it. There's a good inch of dirt covering everything in here. I'd never call her that. Never, I doth even say… that word, any more. Oh, shit, whats she going to think of me."

Convinced that it was just a misunderstanding, Blaise carefully put a hand on his shoulder. "Relax, okay. I believe you. Hundreds won't, but I do." Draco seemed to calm down, and was now looking a bit embarrassed by his meltdown.

"Right. The bigger question is why I got slapped, because even if she thought I did call her a… that thing, I've said that to her dozens of times and never gotten slapped before."

Blaise was actually at a loss why Hermione had hit him. "I don't know," he said. Then a lightbulb went off. "What did you day to her just before she walked off?"

Draco thought for a few seconds, and then flushed. "I might have called her a beaver, and then said that she should go back to the Weasel, because he clearly didn't care what she looked like," he mumbled.

Blaise groaned, and then pulled a copy of _The Prophet _out of an inside pocket of his jacket. He thrust it at Draco, who looked at him curiously for a moment before opening it.

Staring at him from the front page was an enormous picture of the Weasel snogging the life out of someone who clearly wasn't Granger. Frantically, he sought out the date, groaning when he realised it was yesterdays paper, the day after the Auror Ball. Beseechingly, he looked at Blaise, his eyes begging for answers.

Blaise sighed. "Weasley took Lavender Brown to the Auror Ball when Granger decided not to go. I don't know the details of what happened when Granger found out, but yesterday a reporter caught her moving back into that flat she had in Muggle London. And the same night, Weasley turned up at some fancy-ass restaurant with Brown, calling her his girlfriend." He took a moment while Draco was processing the information to examine his reaction. Even though Lucius had done a good job in training Draco not to show emotion, Blaise had known him for over twenty years, and could see the excitement under his mask.

Looking down again at the photo, he squared his shoulders. "I'm going to go apologise." He walked off, and after trying to get there all morning, he finally made it to the elevators, Blaise hurrying after him.

"If you want my advice-" he started.

"I really don't."

"-then you should leave Granger alone for a while. As already demonstrated, her temper isn't one to mess with. You should let her cool down a bit." He continued as though he hadn't been interrupted.

Draco turned to him, and there was a surprising amount of desperation in his expression. "Don't you see? I have to make this better before she really starts to hate me again. I can't have her thinking that I still think of her as a mud-… you know." He turned determinedly back to the doors, waiting for them to open.

Blaise looked more smug then the occasion warranted. "I thought you didn't care about her."

Draco thought about denying it for a second, but quickly shelved the notion. As the elevator doors opened in front of them, he said, "No point anymore. Pretty soon everyone's going to know that Granger is mine." And with that, he walked into the lift and pressed the button for Magical Law Enforcement.

Blaise still wasn't convinced that Draco wasn't going to have his bits cut off,_ But it's not like its my bits I have to worry about, _he reasoned. Aloud, all he said was, "Okay then. If you want Granger to hex your balls off, then I guess its your choice."

* * *

**_Sorry this took so long. School started, and VCE is a little bitch. I'm lucky if I find the time to do my homework. _**

**_I originally wrote this chapter first, so when I re-read it after posting Chapter 3, a lot of it didn't make sense, because some of the character traits and plot devices had changed. That meant I had to re-write a chapter that I liked the way it was, but no longer made sense. Writing is more of an escape, and I'm not particularly diligent in working with a timeframe, so I'm afraid to say that it'll probably be like this for the rest of the story. Just know that I do feel bad it takes me so long to update. I love the love you send me. Review please._**

**_FS xx_**


	5. Being a Prat

Hermione stumbled into her office, completely worn out by the sheer number of people clamouring for her attention outside. She had expected the news of her failed engagement to generate some amount of interest, but never in her wildest imaginings had she expected the _questions_. It seemed that everyone wanted to know everything. Allowing herself one moment to herself before she faced her enormous workload, she lowered herself to the floor, and rested her head against the door of her office.

The press had been brutal. She had no idea who had let them in, but she was determined to find out and hex them. The wards in place around the Ministry kept all unauthorised press members at least 50 feet away from any entrance, and when she ran into her friend Francis, who worked in Maintenance, he told her that they hadn't been broken. That meant that someone would have had to deliberately let them in, and there was only a small group of people who had the authorisation to do that; the Minister, Heads of Department, the Head Auror, and a few of the high-profile members of the general workforce. Hermione herself had put the wards up two weeks after the war, after numerous complaints from disgruntled employees who were sick of being trampled by dozens of stilettos every time they _apparated_ directly into the Atrium.

Hermione repressed a shudder. She hated reporters, more then anything else in her - very privileged - life. She just didn't understand how what she ate for breakfast was somehow more important then the plight of house-elves. _God, and I was complaining about that just the other day. _The ghost of a smile touched her face. She really had gone off the deep end that time, because she and Ron had been followed on their date, and rather then telling them to go away, Ron played it up, posing for the camera's. When they got home, she'd bitched for an hour, because, as she told him, she couldn't stand being…_harassed by the media. _

She screamed. Loudly. Outside her door, everyone within earshot suddenly turned their heads, wondering who had made such a caterwaul. Picking up a framed photo of her and Ron that happened to be sitting on a filling cabinet nearby, she released all of her pent up anger and threw it, with possibly more force then was strictly necessary, against the opposite wall, where it shattered, tearing the photo itself in the process.

"YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE," she screamed. _At least now I know who to blame for the commotion downstairs, _she thought. Making a mental note to remove Ron's authority to allow the press inside, she tiredly rubbed her eyes. Even in the throes of her anti-paparazzi hate, there was no denying that they had hardly been the most unpleasant experience of the morning. They were unwanted, but expected.

No, the honour for 'Most Annoying Group I Had To Endure This Morning' went to her colleagues, and all the other people she'd seen since arriving. Most of the looks that she had gotten had been sympathetic, which she hated. The idea that people who she had never spoken to in her life felt that they had the right to feel sorry for her and her situation was seriously annoying. As far as she was concerned, her relationship was no-ones business except her own, and whomever she chose to confide in. It was not the property of the wider community, and she detested the idea that people she had never met felt they had the right to give their opinions on it.

Almost as bad were the not-insignificant number of people who had given her superior looking smirks, trying to hide their glee that the almost-perfect Hermione Granger had managed to get herself engaged to someone as comparably worthless as Ron Weasley. They were the sort of people who turned up at their grandmothers funeral pretending to look sad, but really wanting to know how much they got in the will.

There was also a group of people - mostly young, female, interns - who worshipped Ron, and hated the relationship between the two of them. It wasn't a huge group, but on her way to elevators, she had noticed the 'Ron Weasley fan club' giving her dirty looks for 'hurting' Ron. _Stupid bints, _she savagely thought as she collapsed into the chair behind her obscenely large desk. _As if they have any fucking idea what he's really like, or about our relationship. _In fact, without even thinking about it, she could think of a dozen fights over the last few months that had been because of them.

And just to cap off the whole morning, was Draco sodding Malfoy. Just as she had been thinking that there wasn't possibly anything that could go even more wrong for her, there he was in all of his arrogant, Slytherin, snarkiness. And just because the universe hated her, she couldn't have just come face-to-face with him and had their usual insult exchange. No, she had to go and walk right into him, and then fall at his feet. She shuddered. Even thinking about it like that made her feel dirty. _But it's not like it was all my fault, _she tried to reassure herself._ It was totally his. If he hadn't decided to just stop in the middle of the hall, then I wouldn't have run into him. _She felt perfectly justified in blaming him for the whole ordeal, even though she knew that she was at least partly responsible, and could probably blame the reporters as well, if she felt like it.

But to act as though it was all her fault? There was something seriously wrong if he thought that she would take that one lying down.

_Watch where you're going Granger._

She sighed. At least it wasn't mudblood any more. Grimacing, she picked herself off the floor and shuffled over to her desk. There was simply to much to do today to waste time sulking on the floor of her office.

No sooner had she sat down and picked up her quill, did she jump up and start pacing. '_Watch where you're going Granger'. As if its my fucking fault that he couldn't get his pureblood ass out of the fucking way. _Lost in her anger, she missed the hesitant, yet strong, knock on her door.

* * *

In the corridor, Draco stared apprehensively at the office door in front of him. He knew that Hermione was inside, because he could hear her muffled curses and the sound of her shoes hitting the floor, but his knock had gone more or less unnoticed. Bemused, he turned to Blaise, who was leaning against the wall next to him. Blaise seemed highly amused by the whole situation, but he still thought that Draco was an idiot for trying to talk to Granger straight off the bat.

"So, even though she can't hear you over the sound of her own rage, you still think that it's a good idea to try and talk her into dating you?"

Draco decided not to answer this, but his answering glare was enough was of an answer anyway. Instead, he raised his fist again, and tried to get Hermione's attention.

It didn't work.

Frustrated, he simply grasped the handle, and, taking a deep breath, opened the door.

"Oi Granger, have you got a cat stuck in your ears?"

And then the door closed, and Blaise heard no more. Chuckling, he started timing how long it would be before he came running out.

* * *

Because she was so intently focused on her own emotions, Hermione didn't notice that someone had tried knocking a second time, and after getting no response, opened the door. She did, however, notice when someone snapped at her.

Whirling around, she found herself facing the very object of her angst. He looked very annoyed for someone who had just barged, unannounced, into an office that wasn't his. Ignoring her glare, he continued. "It really is just common courtesy you know. Opening the door when someone knocks. It's very rude to keep them waiting outside."

"Well you know what else is considered rude, Malfoy?" she snapped. "Walking into someone's office uninvited and then telling them off."

Draco smirked. "Well it wouldn't have been uninvited if you hadn't been so wrapped up in your own issues that you heard me knocking."

Hermione spluttered. "Wrapped…issues…uninvited…you, oh my GOD?" She took some satisfaction in the the way he paled, and seeing his smirk slip a notch. "WHAT THE HELL DO YOU WANT?"

Taking a second to take stock of Hermione's expression, Draco realised that Blaise may have had a point when he said that it would have been better to give her a few minutes. Noticing that her hair had taken on a life reminiscent of its Hogwarts days, he amended his initial assumption. _I should have waited a few weeks. At least. _Trying to placate her, he held up his hands. "Look, all I wanted to do was apologise for what I said."

That pulled her up short. Not that she believed him, because she wouldn't trust what he said if he paid her. But the fact that he had come to apologise in the first place confused her. _He must want something_, she decided.

"Look, whatever it is that you want, I can't do unless you've submitted a proposal, which I know you haven't, because I haven't seen Blaise in over two weeks. So if you're trying to open an illegal brothel without the Ministry finding out or something, then go find someone else to approve it off the books." Finished speaking, she moved over to her desk, sat down, and began to write.

When Hermione hadn't heard a sound out of Malfoy a few moments later, she looked up to see him gaping at her. She quirked an eyebrow, silently asking him what was going on.

"I don't believe you," he said, throwing himself into the chair in front of Hermione's desk, pointy ignoring her glare. "I came down here - against Blaise's advice, I'll have you know - risking one of your curses, to apologise for what I said, and you just sit there, looking at me like I'm the thing that crawled out of the swamp, telling me that I'm just trying to get something. How is that fair Granger? Would you like it if I just assumed that you wanted something off me every time you said sorry?"

Hermione glowered. "Well unlike some people, I don't just go around insulting everyone who crosses my path, so I don't HAVE to say sorry. And since when have you cared about how I felt? You're usually the reason I'm in a shit mood in the first place." She leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, daring him to respond.

He ran a hand through his overlong, blond hair. "God, is it really so hard for you to say 'Thank you for your apology, Draco. I'm sorry for walking in to you'?"

"I didn't walk into you, you prick," Hermione snapped. "You were just being your arrogant, pureblood self, and making the world adjust itself to fit around you. So excuse me if I don't feel like throwing myself at your feet and begging for forgiveness like the rest of those whores you surround yourself with, especially when I didn't do anything wrong, and still managed to get insulted for doing it."

Draco figured that this was probably a good time to unleash all of his Malfoy charm. Hermione didn't seem to be accepting his apology as well as expected, so it was the only choice he had left. Quickly darting forward, he grabbed Hermione's left hand in both of his, while giving her the most pleading look he could muster. He gave an inward cheer when Hermione's breath caught, and taking advantage of her momentary silence, he pressed on with business.

"Granger- Hermione," he amended. "I am really sorry for what I said. That is, straight up, the only reason I came by to see you. I don't want anything from you, I don't need your approval for something, and I swear, I am not trying to earn brownie points. I just wanted to say sorry."

Hermione forced her expression to remain cautious, but inside she was close to melting. _Honestly, it's like some huge cosmic joke. Why should the most disagreeable person have the most 'forgive me' expression? _The one thing she couldn't ignore, however, was the genuine remorse in his tone, and the pleading in his face. She still didn't trust him, but just maybe, he actually was sorry.

Allowing her tentative forgiveness to show, she gently drew her hands from his. "Okay, Malfoy. I accept your apology." She gave him a small smile, thinking; _Oh God, I hope I don't come to regret this."_

Inside, Draco had just burst into a chorus of Hallelujah, but outwardly, he just returned her smile. "Thank you." He was euphoric over the success of the whole endeavour. Sure, it was touch and go in a few places, and had looked like they were in for a screaming match at one point, but crisis averted, day saved, and all that jazz. It was probably the euphoric state he was in that caused him to open his mouth again.

"If I had known about the Weasel, then I wouldn't have said anything, I swear."

Instantly, he knew that he had said the wrong thing. In slow motion, he watched as Hermione's smile vanished, and her forgiving expressions become replaced with one that was altogether more hostile. Before he even had time to react, Hermione was on her feet and screaming at him.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN? IF I _HADN'T _JUST BROKEN UP WITH RON THEN IT WOULD HAVE BEEN OKAY TO INSULT ME?"

Years of honing his Seeker reflexes was the only thing that saved Draco from being hit in the head with the huge law tome that Hermione had had sitting on her desk. If he wasn't so preoccupied with imminent bodily harm, he would have been surprised that she could life the bloody thing, let alone throw it. But given the circumstances, he had more pressing matters to deal with. Like calming the enraged witch would was still screeching at him. The same witch who was currently holding a heavy-looking award of some kind.

"AND DON'T THINK THAT I DIDN'T NOTICE THAT YOU COMPLETELY AVOIDED THE MUDBLOOD COMMENT AS WELL-"

"I didn't mean to call you a mud-, mud-, THAT. It just didn't come out how I meant." He shot back, while avoiding the paperweight she had just chucked in his direction.

Hermione decided with the part of her brain that wasn't currently preoccupied with yelling at Malfoy, that her aim was getting worse the angrier she got. Making the decision to stop throwing all of her possessions at him, what had looked like ending as a nice conversation quickly deteriorated into a full-on screaming match.

"OH YES! BECAUSE THERE ARE SO MANY WAYS THAT YOU CAN MISINTERPRET A COMMENT ON 'DIRTY' BLOOD, WELL I'LL HAVE YOU KNOW-"

"FOR GODS SAKE, I DIDN'T CALL YOU THAT! I HAVEN'T-"

"-THAT YOU ARE BEING TOTALLY PREJUDICE FOR SOMEONE WHO WAS ON THE _LOSING _SIDE OF THE WAR-"

"-USED THAT WORD SINCE BEFORE THE WAR, YOU STUPID-"

"AND NOW YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN JUST WALTZ INTO _MY_ OFFICE AND DEMAND FORGIVENESS? WELL YOU HAVE GOT ANOTHER THING COMING YOU-"

"-EXCUSE FOR A WITCH. I CAN'T BELIEVE THAT _YOU _WERE 'THE BRAINS' OF THE '_GOLDEN TRIO_'-"

"-EGOTISTICAL PRAT. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO STAND THERE AND ACT AS THOUGH YOU'RE THE WRONGED PARTY-"

"-although, I supposed next to Potty and the Weasel, you did look pretty bright. You know, by comparison." he said thoughtfully, abandoning his side of the yelling. Hermione, however, had different ideas.

"GET OUT OF MY OFFICE YOU ARROGANT-" she yelled, while throwing a replica of Michelangelo's _Pieta _at his head. Her aim had improved, and he had to quickly duck to avoid getting clobbered.

"Tut tut, Granger. Is that any way to speak to a guest?" He could feel the smirk on his face, and - rather unfortunately for him - it only seemed to anger Hermione further.

"YOU ARE NOT A GUEST! I DIDN'T EVEN WANT YOU IN HERE! NOW GET **OUT**!" She reached out for the closest object she could reasonably throw, but all she could find was her inkwell. Still, he was so anal about his appearance that the thought of getting ink on his robes would terrify him.

Draco spotted her latest missile, and decided that now was probably a good time to get out. He couldn't bare to think what would happen to his robe if that ink got on it. _Does she not realise that this pure vicuñas wool?_

The whole time, Hermione kept up her tirade. Draco had no idea what she was saying, having chosen to ignore her once getting out of the office became his number one priority, but he did catch a few phrases. They were mostly insults, centred around his ego, arrogance, and his 'you think you're so good because you're a pureblood' tendencies. But he also heard a few insults, including one very graphic description of where he could go stick himself. He was almost impressed by the creativity it took to think that one up.

Suddenly, the door clicked, opening. Thinking that he had enough time to get out before the threw the damn ink at him, he turned around and shot out of the door. Feeling very smug about avoiding her final shot, he forgot the most obvious point.

Reality shattered against him in the form of the ink bottle. Next to him, Blaise was wetting himself with laughter. Reaching past his shock-frozen mate, he closed the door to Grangers office.

"You idiot." He managed to choke out before dissolving into mirth once more.

* * *

Inside, Hermione was feeling elated and depressed at the same time. Her happiness was mostly centred around her crack shot. She hadn't really intended on throwing it, but when he ran out of the office - leaving the door open, the moron - the opportunity was too good to miss. Idly, she'd piffed it at his back. Fortune must have been smiling on her in that moment, because the bottle went sailing through the air, landing directly between his shoulder blades, and exploding across his entire upper body, with a healthy amount getting into his hair.

_His stupid, too-long, I-just-got-fucked, BLOND hair, _she savagely thought. She'd always resented his hair. No matter what he did to it, it always looked fucking perfect, whereas she had to spend twenty minutes on hers just to get it looking presentable. She also refused to believe it was 100% natural. _He HAS to be using bleach, or a potion, or charm, or SOMETHING. No one has hair that white naturally._

But for all the enjoyment she got out of 'dirtying' him (and it was quite a significant amount, given his behaviour that morning), their exchange still saddened her. He had seemed genuine in his attempts to apologise for the way he'd acted, and… and… _I threw it all in his face._

There really was no nice way of saying it. She had been rude and unforgiving, and even after she'd accepted that he was truly sorry, they still ended up in a screaming match. All because of one wayward comment. _Jesus, it's not like I'm unaware of misguided comments. I was engaged to RON WEASLEY for chrissakes. _He probably hadn't even meant it that way, and she's still given him hell for it. Hermione felt even worse when she remembered some of the things she'd said to him. They really were horrible. At least there was always the slight chance that he hadn't heard some of the really bad ones. It didn't look like he'd been listening towards the end, and that was when most of the really bad stuff had come out.

_Oh well, _she thought, trying to move on from the whole ordeal. _It's not like I have to see him any time soon._ Mentally reminding herself to write a long apology letter at the end of the day, she looked up her first meeting. Compared to the morning she'd just had, sitting in an office listening to some old sod drone on and on about why his company needed more money sounded absolutely fantastic. The fact that Malfoy wouldn't be there was just icing on the cake. Opening her planner, she groaned as she saw who she had to meet with first.

_10am: Blaise Zabini re. Malfoy Enterprises - Malfoy may be in attendance._

* * *

**_Sorry this took so long again. I'd say that the next chapter isn't too far away, but you and I both know that's a sketchy promise at best. But on the positives, I've got the serious writing bug, and a head full of ideas I want to get out on the net, so who knows?_**

**_Apparently vicuñas wool is the most expensive in the world, at between $1800 to $3000 USD per yard. It lives in Peru, and by law, you can only legally shear them once every three years. Each adult produces about a pound of wool per shearing. So it's also pretty rare._**

**_In comparison, merino wool is $50, and cashmere $100. It is expensive stuff. Just right for a Malfoy._**

**_If there are any bits that don't make sense of obv. spelling/grammar mistakes, please let me know. It was 11 on a school night when I finished writing this, and I was so desperate to get it uploaded and go to bed, that I probably missed some stuff._**

**_Thanks for your patience. The more you review, the faster I'll write. Pinky promise._**

**_FS xx_**


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